Being sentenced to home detention means your movements are monitored 24/7, but it’s better than prison.
At first, Jordan* didn’t want to tell his parents that he’d been arrested and might go to prison.
He was drunk when he assaulted someone. Two days later, the police phoned him.
“Straight away I knew who narked me in,” the 20-year-old says, fidgeting with his hands in a Department of Corrections office in Stanmore Rd, Christchurch.
“I was thinking at that time, ‘Just wait until I see you’. Yeah, nah, not anymore,” he says. “I just don’t want to get into more trouble.”
Jordan’s parents, “up North”, found out soon enough; second-hand, from an uncle. They flew down for his court appearance. Their son didn’t get prison. He got nine months’ home detention and a square box around his ankle.
There are 1,523 people currently on home detention in New Zealand. An alternative to imprisonment, it makes up just under 5 per cent of all community-based sentences, and is intended for people facing two years behind bars or less.
“Generally prison is not a sentence given for first offences and is a last resort, especially for youth,” a Department of Corrections spokeswoman says.
“Young people are different to adults as they are still maturing.”
A third of all offenders in New Zealand are under the age of 25, and those aged 20 to 24 make up the largest proportion of those on community sentences, including for dishonesty, drug, traffic, violence and sexual offences.
Prison remains, in my view, a university for making prisoners better criminals.
Corrections says young people aged 17 to 19 make up just 4 per cent of the total prison population. They are also more likely to be re-offend.
At 20, Jordan is technically an adult, but he falls under Corrections’ guidelines for probation staff working with anyone under 25.
His probation officer, Jenna Dellabarca, says community sentences are important for young people because “they’re given a chance to … engage in things such as employment”. Research shows being employed reduces the risk of re-offending, Dellabarca says. "[It] establishes a good routine for them."
Nationwide, Corrections wants to reduce re-offending 25 per cent by 2017. It says focusing on youth is critical to achieving this.
Kingi Snelgar, 28, of Ngapuhi/Ngai Tahu descent, who worked as a Crown prosecutor in Auckland for four years, says its an unrealistic goal under the current system. At present, 65 per cent of prisoners aged 17 to 19 are Māori and half have gang affiliations.
“Prison remains, in my view, a university for making prisoners better criminals. Some of the approaches in Norway and other Scandinavian countries seem to be more successful than our penal mentality,” Snelgar says.
In 2013, an investigative report by weekly Al Jazeera programme 101 East, entitled Locked Up Warriors, highlighted an “undeniable … gross over-representation of minorities in jails” in New Zealand. This was despite the country’s “strong reputation for social justice and equality”.
Al Jazeera reported on cultural units and programmes Corrections had introduced to “try to connect Māori with their families instead of … gangs”.
Over-representation of Māori [in the justice system] is linked to poverty and the lack of cultural connection. The vast majority of Māori offenders are not connected to their whakapapa and tikanga.
Snelgar, who is now studying towards a Master of Laws at Harvard University, focusing on the sentencing process for indigenous peoples, says these initiatives heeded little improvement.
“Nothing has changed in the last 25 years,” he says. Today, about 50 per of all offenders are Māori, despite comprising just 15 percent of the general population.
While the emergence of marae-based Kooti Rangatahi (courts), which require young people to stand up in a marae in front of their whanau and account for what they have done, is positive, “the statistics remain”, Snelgar says.
“Over-representation of Māori [in the justice system] is linked to poverty and the lack of cultural connection. The vast majority of Māori offenders are not connected to their whakapapa and tikanga.
There is an inter-generational cycle of offending several generations long,” he says.
“The current model prioritises deterrence too heavily and isolates the offender through the court process and ultimately prison. When someone has done something bad or made a mistake, teaching a lesson is important, but more important is helping the person reconnect with their community so they don’t act that way in the future.”
More diversity in the legal profession would help too, Snelgar says.
There are very few Māori and Pasifika people working as criminal lawyers, including at large firms.
“Internships and summer clerk programmes that target these groups is the best way to encourage more applications,” he says.
Jordan's probation officer, Jenna Dellabarca, says community sentences are important for young people. Photo: Anna Pearson
Dellabarca, a social work graduate, says she approaches her job as a probation officer differently when working with Māori offenders.
“Māori culture is … extremely collective so it’s really important to include whanau and sometimes even whole communities in [the] process in order to make sure everyone’s on the same page,” she says. It is a "holistic" approach, which she values. "If anything, the way I work with Māori offenders informs how I work with all offenders."
Jordan, who is of Ngai Tuhoe descent, left school at 15, and says he’s from a supportive family, with no gang connections. His parents ring most days.
His GPS bracelet provides information on his whereabouts 24-7, including where he goes, his route and how long it takes. It is too chunky to wear under his gumboots at work, and he must keep it charged every night, like a cellphone.
Jordan can’t drink alcohol, as a condition of his sentence, and must attend a drug and alcohol programme twice a week.
If anything, the way I work with Māori offenders informs how I work with all offenders.
“I thought it would have been boring the first time I went, but nah, I like it aye,” he says. “I reckon it’s good for me. I think if I was sober I would not [have assaulted someone].”
He can leave his flat, which he shares with others, to work from Monday to Friday, and to see his probation officer once a week, but that’s about it. If he is running late, he needs to let Corrections know.
"Work’s probably the best thing. My boss has been pretty good. You’d probably just lose it if you stay home all the time,” he says.
“Weekends are pretty boring. I usually just sleep.”
Home detention sentences range from 14 days to a year. Jordan has got five months to go.
A lot of sentences have post detention conditions, which means offenders still have to report into probation. Dellbarca says when a home detention sentence ends, “it’s not a matter of just cutting off the bracelet and off you go out into the world”.
Jordan says he’s looking forward to having “a free leg”, and seeing his family. He plans to drink less, “stop fighting” and “just stay out of trouble”.
One thing is for sure: “I wouldn’t want to go to prison.”
*Not his real name.
Video shot and edited by Riley Bathurst.
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